To Live Forever!
by cerealkiller49
Summary: "Is this going to be the end of me? Will I die like this, powerless, insignificant and unfulfilled? No! I've only just started to live! There's so much I have left to do, so much I have not done. I can't die. I won't die. I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I WANT TO LIVE...FOREVER!" Shang Tsung's origins story, from beginning to the first MK tournament. Mostly AU, semi-original timeline.


**Copyright disclaimers, as I feel that I've borrowed quite heavily from other franchises. Mortal Kombat and all its characters belong to Netherrealm studios and Midway. Alexandar Anderson belongs to Kouta Hirano. Runescape and all its characters and objects belong to Jagex Ltd.**

**Get some popcorn guys. Not only will this chapter will be long, but so will all the chapters to come. And happy anniversary. Here's to another year of mediocre ideas and irregular updates.**

* * *

**To Live Forever**

Slowly my eyes open, and I come to my senses. I really wish I hadn't. Not only do I become aware of the agonizing pain that wracks my body, but the glaring light of the sun is torture to my sensitive eyes. All this negative stimuli is unpleasant to me, and I let out an annoyed growl. That sends a jolt of pain through my body and I pull my body into a ball in response. Misery fills me as I wallow on the sandy ground of...wherever it is that I find myself. Unable to move due to the pain, and baking in the harsh sunlight, there was really not much I could do but curl up and seethe inwardly.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a miracle happens: the sun started to set. Slowly but surely, the oppressive ball of light relinquished its position of being at the center of the sky, and made towards the horizon, where it is swallowed up by the distant mountains, bit by bit.

A wide grin splits my face, and I rise from my fetal position on the ground, strangely without any pain. When I first came to, it felt like half of my bones were broken and most of my insides felt like mush. Now, I feel completely fine. Deciding that all that matters is that the pain is gone, I observe my surroundings fully.

I am surrounded by dunes of blood red sand for as far as my eyes can see. I stand in a little crater of sand as if I fell from high up. Far off in the distance to my right, I see jagged mountain peaks. There is nothing more to see around me, so I turn my attention to the sky, where once the hateful sun was. Now the dark sky is adorned by uncountable numbers of glimmering stars, but as vast and breathtaking as the stars are, the thing that draws my attention the most is the moon. Full, round, and shining red, the pale orb looked close enough for me to extend my arms and grab, which, in fact, I tried. But as soon as I caught sight of my arm and…claws, I froze.

_This...is my arm, _I thought. _And these, my claws._

I suppose I should be surprised. Something within me tells me that what I see isn't normal, but I repress that thought. My arm is what it is. Instead of entertaining such thoughts, I observed my limb. It is thin, with blood red skin stretched over still developing muscles. At the end of my appendage are my claws. Five razor sharp looking talons are there, ready to cut and tear.

At the thought of cutting and tearing, a primal instinct awoke within me, and I feel a strong desire to kill something. Immediately after that, I become aware of how hungry I am. Seeing as there is nothing living around me, I head off towards the distant mountains in search of food.

I lose track of the amount of time I spend traversing the desert, but it was surely a long one. I walk onward, with only the navy blue sand to see for miles. The dunes take on the strange color due to the lighting or the lack thereof.

I must've spent the entire night wandering the desert trying to find food, for the glaring sun was up before I knew it. I watch in despair as the hateful orb of light start off as a pink hue on the horizon, slowly rising until it reaches its zenith in the sky, once again baking the ground beneath it and giving back the sand its golden color. I keep my eyes on the ground, for every time I look up, the light blinds me and I hiss and shut my eyes, walking the next few seconds blind until the blazing balls' imprint leaves my sight.

Though I have no real destination, I press onwards with a dogged determination. Eventually, this pays off, and I run into a set of footprints running perpendicular to my path. Eager to see if this would lead to prey, I follow the tracks. Soon, whoever made the tracks became too tired to continue walking, evident due to the footprints becoming drag marks in the sand. Excitement fills me, and makes my stomach flutter as I anticipate a kill. I do not need to continue much further before I run into my target.

The man before me lies on his back, eyes sunken and cheekbones showing. The tattered rags he wears do little to hide his thin limbs and painfully visible ribcage. Dirty, black shoulder-length hair covers his tan head like a mop. I thought he was dead, but the slight rising and falling of his chest alerts me of his live status. Cautiously I saunter up to the still figure with a bloodthirsty grin on my face. If the man noticed me, he did not make it obvious. Instead, his glazed over eyes continue to stare at the blood red sky as if he is dead already. It is evident that he had been spending several days, if not weeks, wasting away in the desert. Slightly disappointed that he did not even struggle a little, I end his miserable life swiftly with my claws and begin my feast.

When I am finished, all that remains of him are a few bones, shattered and sucked dry of marrow. Hunger satiated for now, I make my priority getting out of the glaring light of the sun. I conclude that the fastest way is to dig into the ground for shelter.

As it turns out, my claws are quite adept at digging too. I dig quickly, excavating a hole about three feet wide and thirty feet deep in a matter of minutes. Once out of the burning sunlight and with nothing to do, tiredness overwhelms me. I close my eyes, and let the blackness of sleep take me.

* * *

When next I open my eyes, I am greeted by darkness. Thankfully. Even though I dug the hole to be thirty feet deep, enough light could shine into the hole to cause me mild discomfort. I then realize this darkness is caused by the layer of sand covering me. It appears that the wind has blown some sand from above into my pit. I will probably need to make up for that by digging a bit deeper every time I wake up. I burst through the layer of sand to sit upright, my mind itching to know and learn.

_Who am I? _What _am I? Where did I come from? What am I going do?_

Thoughts like these race by in my head at a million miles per hour. I will not get anything done like this, so I take a deep breath and calm myself.

The question of 'who am I?' is quickly discarded. This is unimportant because I need not give an introduction to my prey. Living things are few and far between, and I will likely eat all I encounter. Besides, I do not have enough knowledge to create an identity for myself.

_What am I? _This question should be easy to answer. I am a hunter, a predator. I am a killer, born to tear and bite with my claws and teeth. I am -should- be sentient due to the fact that I am perceiving things and processing conscious thought. Despite all this, something inside me tells me that there's something wrong with me. Something that's not...normal. I choose to listen to my intellect and ignore the voice within me.

Next question, 'where did I come from?' This is one question I do not know the answer to. I have no memories of anything before my awakening in the desert. I seem to possess some knowledge of things...some of those things are things I have never even seen or experienced. This leads me to believe that this knowledge is someone -or something- else's. Thus I conclude that I've either absorbed some of the knowledge of my victim, or I was born with the memories of another being. The latter possibility makes me shudder when I think of it.

Not wanting to entertain such frightening ideas, I shift my thoughts to more practical matters. _What am I going to do?_ Originally, I wanted to make this hole my home, only going out to search for food. However, I doubt that I will be so fortunate as to find any food in the wasteland, let alone a steady source to justify the location of my home. As it is, I will probably starve. Thus, I decide that the best choice of action would be to try to find a way out of the desert to a place where more food is available. Strangely, I have not been bothered by the problem of thirst. Perhaps I am a species native to the desert habitat, and have adapted to require less water. I file this thought away for later. Right now, I need to get moving.

I climb out of my hole into the cool air. The moon is once again up and the wind is blowing refreshingly. I head off towards the distant mountains again, drawn by an unknown fascination.

The journey passes by uneventfully. I walk in the direction of the mountain for hours, but by the time the sun rises again, I feel no closer to the mountains than when I first started. Ignoring the hunger in my belly, I start digging a hole to rest in until the sun sets again. Once again I crawl into my hole and shut my eyes to sleep until the moon dominates the sky once more.

* * *

I lose track of how many cycles of sun and moon have passed since I've resolved to find a source of food. The last number I remember is 69. It's always the same old routine. Wake up as soon as the sun sets, climb out of my hole, wander in the direction of the mountains, dig a hole as soon as the horizon brightens, then sleep until the sun sets again. The routine has only been broken twice: Once I encountered a giant lizard and slew it after a tough fight (I gorged myself full and still left half the carcass to the vultures) and another time I found the rotting corpse of some large beast (This was quite disappointing. Not only was the beast already dead, but not much meat remained on its sun bleached bones. I still scavenged what I could). I walk through the desert with my mind numb. I observe that, during my travels, the moon seemed to have disappeared into the darkness of the sky, and then reappeared out of nowhere, definitely an interesting phenomenon. However, there is really nothing to do but walk onwards, nothing to see but dunes of sand and nothing to think about but the hunger in my stomach. It is in this semi-brain-dead condition that I find myself in when I finally reach the foot of the mountains.

The mountains are more like jagged shards of rock rising out of the ground at a slight angle, their sharp peaks reaching into the purple clouds above them. They are barren, devoid of both flora and fauna. The slope of the mountains is steep, and the faces mostly smooth, so climbing them will be a problem even for me, especially with my body weak from hunger. Seeing as this is the case, I walk along the natural spires looking for a pass. Eventually I do, and I go into it. After following the narrow pass for a little way, I come into an open area covered with outcrops of rock. The clearing is quite large; I estimate it is around a hundred yards wide, and maybe half as long. Suddenly, I pause. I can smell, hear and sense the presence of another living being. It is not in sight yet, but by the cautious yet frantic way it moves, I can tell it is scared. In other words, perfect prey. I move quickly and stay low, darting from one outcrop to the next using my senses to locate my target. Eventually, I see my prey. He is facing away from me, but I am struck with a sense of déjà vu. He looks almost exactly like my first victim, except he has brown hair and is not nearly as thin, indicating that he has not been wasting away for weeks. Still, the way he trembles and how he creeps around with a sense of caution is a dead giveaway to the fact that he is out of his element. I sneak behind him without making a sound. Somehow, he senses me, and whips around with a look of fear on his face. It is more delicious than I anticipate his flesh to be. Despite being three feet shorter than he is, I still manage to leap up and slit his throat with my claws, cutting short his pitiful scream. The brunet falls to the ground, lifeless, and I enjoy my first meal in several cycles.

Once I am done stripping his skeleton clean, I leave the man behind and walk towards the other end of the little clearing. There, another narrow pass leads deeper into the heart of the mountains. I give the clearing behind me one last look to see if there is anything important left, and find nothing. I continue down the pass. Eventually the pass widens out again into another clearing, but not nearly as wide as the last one. The clearing bends around the right, and there are a few boulders along the left wall. At the right of the area, a little waterfall feeds steaming hot water into a little pond. Despite all the water falling into it, the pond's water level does not rise. I naturally conclude that there must be at least one tunnel underground that drains the pond. The pond continues all around the right wall. As I continue around the bend, I see that the pond ends at the mouth of the next pass that this clearing narrows down into. Essentially, it's as if the pass never widened in the first place, since the pond restricts the land one has to move on so that it's about the same width as the previous pass. Aside from the little body of water, there is nothing to see in this area other from a few rocks, so I head down the next pass.

The next area is a mix between the previous two areas. It is wide open clearing with rock croppings scattered throughout. There are also numerous ponds like the one in the previous area, but smaller, and with more fumes rising out of it. The water is murky and bubbling and I can see yellow...things growing in there. At the end of the clearing, the pass continues winding deeper into the mountains. Again, I pause. I can feel the presence of another. It is not moving, and I can't smell it above the smelly fumes of the ponds, but I can sense it. It's there, and it's below me. Eager to meet and kill it, I break off into a light jog in search of the hole it's hiding in, when something inside me tells me to stop.

_Why are you doing this_ asks the voice within that's always telling me that I'm not normal and I'm wrong. I hate it. _You are already full, and the being is not threatening you, so why are you so eager to kill it? _I know the answer to that. I'm going to kill it because that's what every single instinct is telling me to do. _Killing for the sake of killing? Do you not find it wrong?_ I snarl in response, tired of this constant pestering of this unknown voice. In the back of my mind, a hypothesis develops in my mind that links the voice in my head to the knowledge of the world that I should not know but do.

I find what I am looking for quickly. It is a pit, much like the one I dug after killing my first victim, but much wider, and potentially much deeper. I cannot tell because the shadow of the mountains and the clouds cover enough light that I can't make out how deep the pit is. I can sense the other, it is right below me. The reckless desire to kill compels me to jump into the hole with no regards to safety. I dig my claws into the wall to slow my descent as soon as I see the ground, but I do not have enough time, and I land roughly. The bottom of the hole is covered with bones and skulls. There are little puddles here and there poking out of the muddy ground. However, the features of this pit are not what interests me. What interests me is the red being lying in the middle of the pit, and it seems that my entrance has just woken it up.

The being is only a bit taller than myself (a surprise, as most things I've encountered are at least twice my size) and no wider. It has two stubby horns just above its temples, and it possesses two pointy ears. It has two thin, long arms that hang to its knees and short stubby legs that end in unsplit hooves. On its back are two small wings that seem to exist more for aesthetics than for flight. The being also has a tail that ends in a wicked barb. It also has claws, but they are not as long as mine. My newly awoken opponent is covered in red skin, and his orange, irisless eyes still clouded by sleep focuses on me, and a bloodthirsty grin identical to the one I'm wearing splits his face.

Unspoken words are exchanged between us. We both knew what we were going to do. This will be a battle to the death merely for the sake of killing the other (though I suspect that my opponent is also slightly hungry) with no mercy given or accepted. I haven't been this excited since I killed that giant lizard. I bend my legs, uncurl my claws and bare my fangs as my opponent do the same. This will be fun.

With a snarl, I leap at the red stranger, claws seeking to tear out his throat. He dodges to the right it and I land ungracefully, but recover quickly. Unfortunately for me, I roll right into his swipe, and his claws rake across my cheek, drawing blood and leaving behind long gashes. I growl, one hand cupping my injury while the other jabs at my opponent, but he steps back and I hit the empty air. I refocus and charge him, not leaping at him this time. As I predicted, he sidesteps to the right, and I turn at the last second to ram my shoulder into his stomach, tackling him to the ground. I use my knees to pin his arms to the ground and pull my right arm back above my head to plunge into my opponent's neck, but I am surprised as something grabs my arm from behind. _Is he using his legs?_ The surprise I feel must've manifested itself on my face, because my opponent leers at me, and he pulls his legs back, pulling my arm, and subsequently me, backwards and off of him. I roll back onto my feet and run at the red fighter who had just gotten back onto his feet, and could not avoid my charge. I swing at him with my left arm, but he blocks it. My momentum, however, pushed him off balance, and he falls on his rear. I did not expect him to fall over like that, so I jump over him to avoid tripping. As soon as I land, I turn around and stab my claws at my opponent's face. He blocks that with his own claws, and our claws interlock.

The situation is a deadlock. I am trying to stab my claws into my opponent's face while he's desperately trying to prevent that by pushing back, and neither of us can overcome the other. After a few seconds of struggling, my opponent rolls backwards and tilts his wrist back. With a lack of anything to hold my weight, I pitch forward, and he throws me with his legs. I go flying and land face first in a puddle of brackish water. I push myself up and turn around to see my opponent doing the same. We circle each other for a few seconds, waiting for the other to make the first move. Eventually, he gets tired of doing nothing and rushes at me, claws swiping at me furiously. His attack is intense, and it's all I can do to just fend off most of his attacks. I can barely make any counterattack. For every ten hits he makes at me I return one. About one in five swipes make contact with my body, and they leave long bloody gashes. One hit in particular was especially deep, catching me in the side and causing me to bend down. This gives me opponent the chance to rake my back with his claws. I snarl and backhand him in the face, knocking him away.

I'm certainly in a bad way. My opponent is outfighting me and my strength is being spent up fast. I have numerous wounds and my opponent doesn't even look tired. Winning this fight seems impossible, but there's no way I'm going to lose. I won't let that happen. If he can beat me in a prolonged battle of strength, I'll just try to use my agility to outmaneuver him.

The fact that he's winning does not escape my opponent. He charges at me with claws outstretched to start clawing away at me, but I duck under his attack and punch him in the gut, winding him. _Punch him? Why did I not use my claws and rip out his intestines?_ My next blow is not as merciful. I unsheathe my claws and rake him from the belly all the way up to his face. Blood squirts out of the wound, blinding my opponent and spraying me with the red liquid too. I use this opportunity to slash at his throat, but he is stumbling about and, though I make contact, it is not deep enough to end his life. The red fighter utters a surprised growl and backs away from me, but I pursue him, slashing away at him. He protects his head with his arms, but his exposed areas are turned to ribbons. After a while of me clawing away at him furiously, my opponent kicks me and knocks me back.

I smile. We're on more even footing now. My opponent is breathing heavily now, and blood flows freely from our wounds. We'll not be able to continue fighting for much longer, and we both know it. It's time to finish this.

The crimson stranger runs at me, but I fall onto my back and roll backwards, kicking back with one foot to fling my opponent over me. He goes flying headfirst into the wall, colliding with a loud _crack_. He will only have a concussion if he is lucky.

Dazed and confused, my opponent rolls over to lie on his back. This gives him a perfect view of me sauntering up to him slowly with a murderous grin on my face. He is finished. I pick him up by the throat with my right hand and drive my left claw into his face. It goes right through his skull and continues until it touches the wall of the pit behind him. The action ends his life immediately, and the corpse starts turning into ash in my hands.

I'm not sure what exactly happened next. I held out my left hand and _something _happened. I'm not sure what, but I started absorbing the ashen remains of my enemy. The strength of my defeated foe fills me, and it's amazing. It's as if it's not just me living anymore, but two beings in one body. I have the strength and power of two, but it is still me and uncompromisingly me who makes the decisions as to what I do with my newfound power. However, I gain more than just that. I get glimpses of the memories and the knowledge of my defeated enemy.

_Waking up, body racked with pain. Unfamiliar, mountainous terrain. Wandering through winding mountain passes. Eventually reach clearing filled with rock outcrops and bubbling pools of toxic water. Tired, so dig hole to rest in. What's this? Someone is tossed into my hole! He seems unable to move, and I'm hungry so I eat him. Delicious. Almost every day a new victim. Easy life. Sleep and eat, sleep and eat. One day, a stranger. The being is only a bit shorter than me and no wider. It has two stubby horns just above its temples, and it possesses two pointy ears. It has two thin, long arms that hang to its knees and short stubby legs that end in unsplit hooves. On its back are two small wings that seem to exist more for aesthetics than for flight. The being also has a tail that ends in a wicked barb. It also has claws that are about an inch longer than mine. My next victim is covered in red skin, and his orange, irisless eyes focus on me, a bloodthirsty grin identical to the one I'm wearing splits his face._

When the absorption process is complete, I take a while to process all that's happened and all I've seen through the eyes of the now dead red being. If what I've seen is correct, then he and I are of the same species. Our beginnings are nearly identical, and our desires the same too, not to mention or appearance. This information is not too hard to digest, as I've always expected other members of my species to exist. What is hard to digest is the new ideas I've gained from absorbing his mind. This concept of day and night...I guess I've always known what it is, but never called it that. To me, it was just cycles of sun and moon dominating the sky. As well, it seems that people are dumped into this hole, but for what reason, I can only guess. My best guess is that it's used to execute prisoners. Whatever the case, here is a steady source of food, and a suitable place for shelter. I will make this my home. With a meal in my stomach and a victory under my figurative belt, I close my eyes and sleep. Life is going to be easy now, but I know this will not last forever. An inner part of me rejects this life of doing nothing but eating and sleeping. I will eventually wander off in search of something more, but, for now, I will rest.

* * *

I am awakened by the sounds of a struggle outside my pit. Using my ability to sense spiritual energies, I get an idea of what's going on. Two stronger people, probably guards, are dragging a weaker person, probably a prisoner, kicking and screaming, towards my humble abode with the intent to throw him in for me to finish their job. The prisoner's energy is much weaker than the guards; probably meaning that he's been locked up with little food and water for a while, but a meal is a meal.

I sit upright in anticipation for the kill. Now that the trio is closer, I can hear the exact words of the doomed man's pitiful curses and pathetic begging to be spared. The guards' only response is to chuck him to me. The unfortunate man landed in an ungraceful pile of limbs. Based on the loud _crunch_ he made when he landed, he probably broke a few bones, ensuring that he will not be able to resist me. I stalk towards him slowly, relishing his fear. However, once I get close enough to see his face, the blatant resignation etched all over his face completely took away the thrill of the hunt. Even so, food is food, and at least he is still alive. I lunge at him quickly, cutting short his scream by tearing out his trachea. I devour that, then I devour him, stripping every last bit of flesh from his broken, marrow-drained bones (courtesy of me).

With my hunger now satiated, I now ponder my next course of action. Instinct is screaming at me to get out of this cesspool and wander the land in search of…interesting things. My intellect, however, tells me that the wisest choice would be to stay here. Based on the memories of the previous inhabitant of this pit, the guards regularly dumped prisoners in here every day. If I stay here, I can eat them and grow stronger. Besides, who knows if the world outside isn't like the desert, barren, dry, and devoid of food? Yes, I will settle here until I start going crazy with boredom, then I shall make a name for myself. Literally, I do not recall having a name. That is beside the point. Right now, I need to go back to sleep. I am surprised by how quickly I can force myself to sleep. Within minutes, I am taken back to the black nothingness of sleep.

* * *

So a hundred or so years pass. The pattern of eating and sleeping goes uninterrupted the entire time. Only once every thirty or so years a prisoner overpowers the guards and escapes, and I do not get an easy meal. Instead, I have to climb out and hunt him down, which only makes the entire process longer by five minutes, and much more fun. I make sure to leave a bloody arm behind so the guards know that the prisoner has not escaped.

Besides that, I notice that I'm growing. I cannot feel myself growing, but the fact that the pit seems smaller now than it was when I first came here indicates that I've grown. An increase in size naturally accompanies an increase in strength, but it is only enough to allow me to move without strain, not the kind of strength I need to ravage the lands, crushing all who dares opposes me. I need to get stronger, but how?

The solution to this problem presented itself in quite a surprising manner. I was sleeping away when something landed softly in my pit. Very few things land in this hellhole and even fewer land softly. I, being a light sleeper, woke up immediately. The something turned out to be a man.

He is average in terms of height; most of the prisoners thrown in here are about as tall as he is, but he is shorter than me by a full foot. His flowing black hair reaches his shoulders, and his piercing, almond shaped, brown eyes seem to gaze into my soul. His skin is a light shade of ochre and, though his maroon robes cover him from head to toe, I can tell that he is well muscled. Speaking of his garments, it would've been normal if he hadn't had two giants skulls act as his pauldrons. A black sash wraps around his waist and, below that, the back of his robe widens out and continues till it reaches the back of his knees while the front part ends such that it looks like an open trench coat. The strangest thing about this man is that I cannot sense any spiritual energy in him. He must either be suppressing somehow or...I shudder to think of how this can be otherwise.

The newcomer proceeded to make some strange noises. In all my interactions with humans, I have never heard them do anything but scream. The sounds this man is making are not laced with fear, but are steady, calm, and somewhat disinterested. Despite the fact that I have never heard speech, I could still understand him perfectly.

"This is the strongest demon in the area," sniffed the man with a condescending look on his face.

This really got my blood boiling. That weakling _dares _to belittle me? Just for that, I will tear out his heart and feed it to him.

With a roar, I spring at him, claws outstretched at his heart, but he is much faster than I expected. He moves to the side, grabs my arm and spins 180 degrees, throwing me hard at the wall. I collide headfirst, and everything above my shoulders is stuck in the dirt. The impact might've also slightly concussed me, as I am a bit dizzy. I pull my head out, and wobble a bit on me feet, trying to see straight again.

"Fat, weak and inexperienced," sneered the red robed man. "Guided by rage and instinct alone. Pathetic."

This wretch continues to insult me! I will kill him by giving him one thousand cuts, non-lethal, all over his body until he bleeds out!

I charge at him once more, being careful not to leap at him this time. He sticks out one arm outstretched, palm open and facing me. Green energy surrounds his hand. Whatever he is doing does not affect me, though I do feel something trying to push me back. Despite that, I keep rushing at him without slowing down. Once I am within three feet of my target, his eyes widen in realization that I will not be stopped by whatever trick he is trying to pull. I would've bowled him over and torn out his throat if his fast reaction hadn't saved him. He flipped over me as I was about to run him over, then used his hands to push off my shoulders, propelling us in opposite directions, him to a soft landing and me to another meeting with the wall.

"At least you are naturally resistant to magic," observed the infuriating man. "That spell would have most things pinned against the opposite wall. I will have to subdue you by force then."

Faster than a person should be able to move, he dashes at me and rams his elbow into my solar plexus and I double over. He continues his assault by kneeing me in the chin, snapping my head back. Then the red robed man brings both hands together to form a hammer lock and smashes it into my head, sending me face first to the ground violently. I collided with a jaw-shattering _crunch_ and several of my teeth flew out.

Dazed but not out of it, I attempt to get up, but I see, in my peripheral vision, my opponent lift his leg high and bring it down on my head hard. I feel the impact, and then nothing.

* * *

When I come to, I am in a strange room. It is circular in shape, not unlike my pit. However, it is significantly wider and the ceiling is only twenty feet off the floor. The walls of the room are built of grey stone blocks and the floor of wooden planks. Facing me is one door, and behind me is another. Scattered throughout the room are unkempt desks littered with papers and bookshelves that look like they are ready to explode due to the number of books crammed into them. Light comes from the chandelier affixed above the center of the room and from candles along the walls. I am trapped at the center of the room in a cage, quite similar to a giant birdcage.

There is but one window in the entire room, and it runs from the ground to about halfway to the ceiling. Looking through the window, I see an identical room with a strange, red being trapped in a birdcage, stuck in a predicament just like my own. This one is red and tall, about seven feet in height. His big, gaping maw is lined with razor sharp teeth, and he studies me back with his pure red, irisless eyes. From the side of his head protrudes two black horns that sticks out to the side then bends so that the tip faces forward. There are more spikes sticking out of the stranger's elbows, black as well. His tail is as long as his upper body and it ends in a black spike as well. The scarlet prisoner is well muscled, but his calves are significantly thinner than any other part of his body. He has claws too, exactly like me, five long talons attached to his palm. His legs end in split hooves, and more black spikes rise out of the back of his calcaneus. Strangely, I cannot feel his spiritual energy, just like the person who imprisoned me, and probably imprisoned the other red being too.

Speak of the devil, here he is now. He teleports into the room in a flash of purple light, which blinds me. Just seeing his face causes me to snarl at him, which he responds to with a gleeful smirk. The mysterious man studies me for a few seconds, before shaking his head and sighing.

"They just don't make them like they used to. I can't believe this is the strongest demon I've found the nearby area."

His constant belittling gets on my nerves really quickly. Since I am trapped in this cage, the only sort of lashing I can do is verbal and, even though I've never spoken the tongue of humans before, speak out.

"I wILl TeAr ouT yOur HeARt aNd Eat IT wHIlE yoU WAtcH!" My voice is creaky from disuse, but he understands.

"At least you still have your fighting spirit!" laughed the sorcerer. "Entertain me, ask me three questions of your choice and I will answer them."

"I nEEd nOthiNg fRom A weAklInG lIKe yOu But youR dEaTh at My hANds!"

"Oh dear, there's no need to be like that." As he says this, he raises his right arm and fires a green blast at me. When it hits my chest, it feels as if he threw a sledgehammer at me, and I am knocked to the ground. "Let's talk civilly, you'll have little to do but sit in that cage elsewise."

I stand back up and, though I am seething inwardly, decide to take him up on his offer. He said he would answer three of my questions, and I plan to use that to my advantage.

"HoW Do I GEt oUt oF hERe?"

"That's quite simple," he answered as he took out a key from the folds of his robe. "You put this key here into the lock of the cage, and you can open the door. Alternatively, you can try breaking the bars, but I'd advise against that, they're magically reinforced."

That was not as helpful as I would've liked, but at least now I know that the bars are reinforced.

"WHo aRe YoU?" This question doesn't help me get out, but I now realize that nothing I ask will result in him letting me out. Since that's the case, I might as well get some answers to some burning questions of mine.

"Good question! I am Shang Lao, sorcerer, specializing in necromancy, homunculus building and interdimensional travel, among other things."

"WhAt ARe yOU GoINg to DO tO me?"

"I am not going to do a thing. You will be the one doing things. See, my profession warrants a lot of enemies, many of which try to kill me. For the sake of self-preservation, I have cast numerous enchantments and wards on my tower as well as having many beasts guard the various floors of my tower. You are to be my new final guard since my old one has been slain. You are poorly suited for the job, seeing as you're so fat and weak, but that's because you are no different than a pig that's been raised on a farm, all you do eat and sleep then sleep and eat. Besides, you have been consuming the essence of weaklings. The prisoners they throw into your pit are so pathetic I'm surprised you haven't turned into a worm! Nevertheless, the opponents you will meet are stronger and tougher than anything you can imagine; some of them might even be stronger than me! In any case, you won't get your food for free anymore; you'll have to earn it. It'll be good for you too; only by drinking the blood of true warriors can you really become strong."

That answered several of my more urgent questions. A few still remain on my mind, however.

"HoW Am I gOInG tO pROteCt You iF I'M sTuCK in ThIs cAGe?"

"I only promised to answer three of your questions, but I'm feeling generous. Once I've gauged your strength, I'll cast appropriate wards and enchantments on this room to prevent you from escaping, and then there will be no more need for this cage."

"If YOu neEDeD ANoTher gUArdIan, wHy noT UsE hIm?" I ask as I point to the stranger in the window.

"…This fool's never even seen a mirror before," sighed Shang Lao as he covered his face with his palm. "That is your reflection, not another demon."

"OnE mORe ThiNg: Who am I?"

"A demon," he replied. He then furrowed his brows as if concentrating hard, and my brain itched, as if someone was scratching at it. After a few seconds, he started talking again. "Your true demonic name is Tsung Kril'yha, offspring of the legendary elder demon Tsung Mwo'gwai. That is all the time I'll spare for you. Until the next we meet, my power be upon you." With that, the sorcerer disappeared through the door behind me.

A lot has been revealed to me. At first, I am reluctant to be the guard dog for that detestable man, but I was growing bored of life in the cesspool anyways, and people will come to me bringing worthy fights. The promise of battle and power is surely the best I can ask for.

Also, he called me a demon. I do not believe he meant it as an insult; it is more likely that that is what I am. I had my suspicions when I started devouring human flesh.

Another thought hit me. If that is truly my reflection, then I have grown so much since I last saw myself through the eyes of the foe I vanquished. I have tripled in height and developed muscles (though that Shang Lao still calls me fat) and lost my wings. My growth surprises me. Though I have done nothing but live the pig's life, I still naturally develop this type of physique.

Now with nothing to do, my habits from a century of doing nothing kicks in and a curl up to sleep, being unable to lie down fully in this cage, with dreams of bloodshed and slaughter dancing in my head.

* * *

I sense a presence. It can't be the one I'm guarding, I cannot sense his soul. This one's energy is spectacular. He feels ten times stronger than even the guards that throw their hapless prisoners to my waiting jaws. He is below me now, but is making his way up quickly, but not quickly enough to denote a familiarity with the tower. This must be an intruder, and my first victim. I stand up, jaws watering in anticipation and the cage magically disappears around me.

After about ten minutes of waiting, he finally makes it. The door in front of me bursts open, and my panting opponent is finally revealed to me. He is a half a head taller than the one who imprisoned me, though he is undoubtedly boosted by the iron greaves he's wearing. His brown hair is shaped in a crew cut and his blue eyes, though they appear to be looking at the ground, I know to be studying everything in this room, especially me. He is clad in simple iron armor that completely exposes his arms, while a piece of cloth bearing a golden cross hangs out from the head opening to the waist, where it is secured by a piece of rope. In my foe's left hand is an iron square shield and, in his right, an iron longsword, though I can sense that it is no ordinary sword. It is brimming with magic. His face and arms are covered by wounds, testament to the tough defenses of the tower.

Now that my opponent's finished catching his breath, he stands up straight, raises his shield to protect his vital organs, and flashes me a cocky smile.

"I've come this far already," he said. "You won't stop me."

"I wIlL FeASt on YouR fLeSh!" I replied.

I do not give him a chance to respond. Instead, I swipe at him with my right arm, which he deflects with his shield. The recoil of the blow causes me to take a step back and him to go down on one knee. He stands back up quickly, but ducks down again to avoid another swipe from me. He jabs at me with his sword, but it wouldn't have reached me even if I hadn't hopped back since my arms are longer than his sword's reach.

We circle each other, watching and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Sometimes I stomp my foot at him, pretending to attack in order to intimidate him. Sometimes he slashes at me to keep me on alert. Eventually I grow weary of this waiting and attack him. Due to my superior range, I can assault him without him being able to retaliate. The iron clad warrior realizes this too, and tries to get closer to attack me with his sword, but I fall back to stay just out of his reach. Seeing that he cannot touch me with his weapon, my foe retreats out of my reach and fires a beam of light at me from his sword. It bounces off me harmlessly and explodes into a hundred fragments of light.

"All the other foul beasts in this accursed tower become dust just at the sight of this holy light!" exclaims the brunet with a look of shock on his face. "What are you?"

"I aM a dEMon fRom yOuR wOrst nIGHtmaRE!" I respond.

Fear fills the face of the doomed warrior, and it brings a hideous grin to my face which only serves to deepen his fear. I swipe at him again, hooking my claws around the square shield and pull it out of his hands. Now that he is without the protection of his shield, I swing at him again, knocking the sword out of his grasp. Unarmed and without the will to fight anymore, the blue eyed swordsman kneels before me, accepting his death. I plunge my talons through his armor and into his ribcage, past the bones, and into the organs. I lift him above me so that he can look into eyes despite him looking down. I get a clean look at his face, and his expression is priceless. Disbelief, fear and a blank look of acceptance is etched on his visage, and I cannot help but taunt him.

"I WiLL bE yOur enD!"

The disbelief and blankness drains from his face, leaving only the look of intensest fear behind. Greater joy I have not known. I decide to show mercy by ending his life quickly by tearing out his windpipe with my jaws. His flesh is the most delicious I've ever tasted, and it reeks of strength, a taste I've never tasted on my food before. I break apart his armor and search for every last bit of flesh. The strength I gain from consuming the warrior's body is spectacular. I should've known how much power I'd gain from eating him when I first sensed his presence, but, even so, I am caught off guard by the power that floods into me. I have not felt like this since I absorbed the ashes of my fallen brethren. Along with this feeling of taking another life into me are the memories of the fallen fighter.

* * *

_"So if you could start me off as a colonel, that'd be great." I've just finished showing off my skills. They'll make me a major at least._

_"WHO THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" screams the enlister_

_"Huh?" I asked, genuinely confused._

_"So you're talented, naturally gifted with the power of the light, and a good swordsman too. Good for you! Shao Kahn has many enemies, and hundreds of other talented people like you sign up every day, and they have to go through the ranks just like everyone else, you're not special. If you want to be a high ranking officer, then you have to show that you have what it takes. You have to show that you're smart, a tactical decision maker, and a person that looks after his teammates, as well as the other things that everyone expects in a leader: bravery, integrity, honor and accountability."_

_"…Huh…"_

_"Where are you going? Just because you don't start off as an officer doesn't mean we won't take you. Welcome to the Resistance of the Order of Light, Private Faarthas."_

_I leave the building with no little disappointment. _I have to prove myself, hmm? _I think to myself._ I'll show you. I'll come back with the head of the most dreaded sorcerer in the entire Outworld, Shang Lao himself!

_I spend months trying to find where the treacherous sorcerer is, and one more training and preparing myself for the confrontation. The night before the day I set off for Shang Lao's tower, I have a nightmare so terrible it almost stopped me from going._

_I am running from something, I am not sure what. I am my light magic does not work against it and my sword is useless. Fear and adrenaline pumps through me as I sprint down a dark path, hopefully away from my pursuer, but his dark, throaty chuckles seem to be coming from right behind me. I turn around to try to try to get a glimpse of my chaser, but see no one. When I turn around, I run smack into a tall, red body and fall on my butt. I looked and beheld a demon with black spikes adorning his red body and his incisor lined jaw stretched in a bloodthirsty grin. Terrified, I crawl backwards and ask, "What are you?"_

_"I aM a dEMon fRom yOuR wOrst nIGHtmaRE,"it snarls in response. "I WiLL bE yOur enD!"_

_He brings is claws down on me, and I bolt upright on my bed covered in cold sweat. Never before have I been cut off from the light. Ever since I've been born I remember the presence of the light, and being separated from it, even if only in a dream terrifies me. I have premonitions now and then, and this certainly feels like one and, for just a second, I want to back out of my journey and just rise through the ranks normally. Then I remember all the people of the village, all the lost souls waiting to be avenged, and I put my fears behind me. I need to get to a high rank, unite our resistance with others and then lead them to battle against Shao Kahn, that's the only way I can avenge my fallen friends. I can't wait and earn my rank normally, that would take too long. I need to become an officer as soon as possible, and if that means facing my demons (literally), then so be it._

_Half a week of travelling and I am at the base of the sorcerer's tower. I could feel its dark presence from miles away. It is here that I will earn my rank._

* * *

While I am going through the memories of my victim, the accursed sorcerer conjured up the cage again, and I am trapped once more. This slightly puts a damper on my good mood, but does not ruin it. The power and satisfaction I gained from killing the foolish paladin has me on a terrific high. I go to sleep in the same state of euphoria, where I rush into the embrace of even happier dreams.

When next I open my eyes, it is to crush another challenger. For the next two years, I maintain the steady schedule of sleep, fight and eat. After the first year, the cage around me disappears. I do not try to escape because I do enjoy my job. People just come to me as if asking to be slaughtered. As I study myself more in the mirror, I notice that grown thinner over the course of two years. Perhaps master was right to call me fat before. Two years of the correct diet and fighting has helped me shed my weight and grow incredibly strong. I estimate that I am ten, if not twenty times stronger than I used to be when master first brought me here. Along with their strength, I've also gained the knowledge of every one of my foes. I am smart, strong and dangerous; surely this is what my master had in mind when he went out to search for a guardian for his tower.

One day I am awakened not by the appearance of another spiritual energy, but by someone kicking down the door. I bolt upright, expecting to see master since he is the only one I know of that hides his presence, but instead see a stranger crouching in the destroyed doorway. Behind the man, a dimly lit passage leads into the dark depths of the tower.

The man has short, spiky blond hair and green eyes. He also has stubble his chin and a large scar running down his left cheek. His large, bloodthirsty grin reveals extremely prominent incisors. The stranger wears round glasses, a large grey open cassock with a purple trim and blue inside lining, grey pants, black boots, a black shirt with blue trim, white gloves and a silver cross around his neck. In his hands are two silver foot long bayonets that look sharp enough to cut through the walls. Blood covers both the stranger and his blades. The blond stands upright and I see that he is tall. I am at least twice as tall as every other foe I've fought, but I am only a few heads taller than this man. In his new position, the light reflecting off his glasses completely obscures his eyes and his cross glows golden.

"Today is my lucky day," grins the bayonet wielder. His accent is strange, one that I've never heard before, not even in the memories of my victims "Not only do I get to purge the sorcerer but also this abomination of a demon too!"

I smell his scent and it reeks of power. "AaAaaHh…yoU smELl DeLiCIous!"

I pounce at him, but he rolls out of the way and stabs a bayonet at me. I deflect it with my claws and lunge at him, aiming to bite off his arm. He is faster than I am though. He pulls his arm away and punches me in the chin, snapping my head back. I use that momentum to backpedal away from him, avoiding the slashes that the blond aimed at my exposed throat and belly. Before I can make my next move, the holy man reaches into the folds of his coat and throws out three more silver blades at me. The bayonets spread out in a cone and move too quickly for me too dodge all of them. Thus, I decide to take the course of action that minimizes damage and step out of the way of two of the swords while blocking the last with my left forearm. The bayonet tear through my arm and stop just short of my chest, the pain flaring through my arm amplified by the burning sensation caused by the blade. I scream a ghastly cry and pull the holy weapon out, my black blood splattering all over the place, sizzling as it lands.

"Fool," admonished the blond as he sauntered towards me, his swords held perpendicular to each other to form a cross in front of him. "These enchanted silver blades are specifically designed to destroy creatures of the darkness. Even a slight touch from them and monsters like you will feel the power of the Holy One burning you from within!"

I growl in annoyance and jab my left arm at him. In one quick motion, my opponent spreads his arms full out to the sides, the bayonets that they grip following and severing my arm up to my elbow. I am used to losing limbs, as would-be assassins in the past have cut my arms and legs off several times, but I've learned how to regenerate body parts. Still, the pain of losing an arm does not dull with experience, and I howl and stumble backwards. Some of my blood splatters on the blond's cloths and burn small holes in them. Experience does, however, teach me how to regrow lost body parts faster, and a new forearm pops out of my bloody stump before my foe does anything. This, however, seems to amuse the man.

"So the monster can regenerate, eh?" chuckles the green eyed priest as he leaps back to the knocked down door. "Then I will just have to kill it in one blow!"

The holy man dashes at me as I dash at him, his bayonets drawn back to pierce my heart just as my claws are drawn back to rip out his throat. As we near each other, we lunge forward at each other with our respective weapons outstretched to kill the other.

_Squelch!_ The sound of something big and sharp plunging into flesh is heard. My face and the face of my opponent are only a few inches apart, the grins on our faces matching and I am about to say something before I become aware of a sharp, burning pain in my chest. I look down to see the man's holy bayonet sticking out of my heart and straight out the back, with a few inches to spare sticking out of the front. A few seconds later, my arms fall off, severed by an unseen second blow that must've occurred simultaneously with the stab. I utter a bloodcurdling shriek, and my foe kicks me in the stomach, knocking me onto my back. He then throws another silver blade into my throat, cutting short my cries with a _gak_.

Up to this point I've only regenerated arms and legs and tails and other non-vital organs like that, but I am confident that things like my heart and throat are within my power to regenerate. I focus my demonic energies to create a new heart. However, before I am able to do that, the blond interrupts my concentration.

"Don't bother trying to heal yourself. As I mentioned before, these swords are blessed. They will prevent you from regenerating, so feel free to die as I go to kill your master."

Just as the green eyed man turns around, the door that I've guarded opens to reveal my master with his usual calm demeanor. The stranger pulls out two more bayonets and his grin, which is already quite wide, grows impossibly wider. A look passes between the two of them, and something that is above my knowledge and understanding is silently communicated between them. They then engage in some dialogue, but I do not catch most of it as I am trying to repair my lost body or destroyed parts. While my severed arms grow back easily enough, my heart and my throat do not. Every time I attempt to regenerate the destroyed organs, the silver blades lodged within them destroys the tissue around it. I try to speak but instead gurgle on my own blood. I don't have the strength to move anything anymore, and I feel incredibly cold. My eyes widen in realization. I'm dying, and I am going to die.

_Is this going to be the end of me? Will I die like this, powerless, insignificant and unfulfilled? No! I've only just started to live! There's so much I have left to do, so much I have not done. I haven't even razed a single village yet. I can't die. I won't die. I DON'T WANT TO DIE!_ I WANT TO LIVE...FOREVER!"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!" roared my master and the intruder simultaneously. I didn't know that I had been making a half-choking, half-gurgling sound that was super annoying to listen to. I coughed an apologetic cough and suffered in silence as I watched the fight.

The two of them had been fighting for a while already, and it seems the yellow haired invader has the upper hand, as my master has several long gashes on his arms and one running from the left ear to his mouth. Blood is running from his wounds and he's breathing hard while his foe is smirking calmly, cool as a cucumber. It is no surprise too, seeing as my master has no weapons to fight back with.

Quick as a flash, the intruder dashes towards my master, body low to the ground, arms crossed and bayonets pointing backwards. It looks cool but unnecessary, a sure sign of the blond's confidence. Before the swords can cut him into pieces, the mage transforms. In two seconds, he grows wider, gains more muscle and his robes turns into armor composed of a series of overlapping bronze rectangles. On his head is a helmet of bronze that only covers the top and back of his head. In his hands is a weapon that I can only describe as a scimitar blade affixed to a metal pole. The mage-warrior twirls his weapon, deflecting the twin slashes from the holy man. Unfortunately for the bayonet wielder, his attack left him wide open for a counterattack, and a counterattack was made indeed. Master channels the momentum of the spinning weapon into a stab at his opponent's midriff. The green eyed fighter reacts quickly and jumps back as soon as he sees that his attack was deflected, but the reach of the poleaxe exceeds the length of his jump, and the tip of the blade nicks him in the gut, leaving a small slash. The blond looks down at his wound, which is starting to bleed profusely, in shock as if in disbelief that that just happened, then back up at the armored shapeshifter in anger.

With a snarl, the dual wielder throws a couple holy blades at master from the depths of his overcoat, and dashes in while master is deflecting the projectiles. The warrior-mage is fast, however. He blocks the thrown swords and jabs at the incoming yellow and grey blur before it is in range to strike back, and the glasses-wearer is forced to vault over the pole. He lands behind the shapeshifter, just as my master predicted. Without missing a beat, the formmorpher spins around to deliver a sweeping blow, one hand at the base of the blade and the other hand at the other end of the shaft so the blade might lop off his opponent's head. The blond predicts what master is going to do, and does not rise immediately. This action saves his life, as the pole axe whizzes over his head harmlessly, though it does shave off a few hairs. Having evaded the attack, the holy man launches his own attack, springing upwards with an upward slash seeking to eviscerate his foe. The warrior-mage spins with his weapon whilst taking backwards steps to move out of the range of his enemy, thus avoiding the attack. The blond is persistent, however. He lets the attack carry him onto his feet, and dashes at master as soon as he is upright. His blades are low, seeking to destroy master with an upwards slash. Master draws his poleaxe above his head for a crushing blow and charges at his opponent too. The two clashing forces are a few feet away from each other when the bayonet wielder throws his blades to the side and draws out a massive sword from the depths of his cloak. The new blade is twice big as his usual bayonets in every dimension, so its wielder needs to use both hands to use it, and it glows like shining gold even in the poor lighting. This happens with neither combatant slowing down even a bit. As they step into each other's range, they swing, and there is a harsh metal sound.

I watch incredulously as the faux-gold blade cleaves through the poleaxe as if it's made of butter. The two halves of the eviscerated weapon drop to the ground, as do a few of master's severed fingers. The blond flows with his upwards momentum, turning it into a full 360 spin into a clean decapitation at the end of the spin. A helmeted head flies one way as the body slumps the other. A few seconds after the cut, however, both the head and the body dissolves into dust, and master rematerializes behind his would-be killer.

"So it's like that, eh?" says the blond. The man is facing away from master, so master has no idea what this man's face is like right now, but can I see what my master cannot see. I see his insane grin made ten times crazier by the shadows on his face due to him facing away from the main source of light and his glasses becoming opaque with the reflected light. It gives him a very insane, and admittedly cool, appearance. "I will have to kill you multiple times before you stay down."

The holy man pockets his massive blade and withdraws two smaller bayonets that he usually uses as he stands up.

"Not exactly," replies the shapeshifter. "I merely abandoned that body before death could take me. You only need to kill me once. I will not, however, let death take me so easily. Not after so many millennia of avoiding it."

The blond's already maniacal grin grows even crazier and wider. "That's good to know! All I have to do is cut you to pieces until you stop coming back."

A crack forms on the normally calm countenance of my master that manifests itself as an annoyed frown. "You say it like it will be easy," replied my master, his annoyance making itself known in his tone of voice.

"THAT'S BECAUSE IT WILL BE!" roars the silver sword bearer as he charged at the mage. "RRRRRRAAAAAGGGGH!" Master sweeps his right arm in an arc around him, and two green fireballs launches out of his hand, one to either side of him. Upon touching the ground, the projectiles explodes in a burst of viridescent light, and two figures emerge from the light. One wears a two-horned helmet, with shoulder length golden hair spewing out from under it. His full beard is the same color and hangs down to his chest. A simple, leather, sleeveless navy blue split vest trimmed with white fur covers his upper body, exposing his muscular arms and revealing his toned chest. A leather belt studded with metal circles is strapped around his waist which holds a loincloth that covers all his vital lower organs (though the loincloth covers everything beneath it, I'm sure he's wearing underpants beneath that, loincloths often fly around as one fights). Blue-grey fabric is wrapped around his forearms and he wears knee-high boots. In his hands are two small battleaxes.

The other figure is clad in loose fitting chainmail that goes up to his elbows. He wears a brown, sleeveless tunic over the chainmail that hangs to his knees. His legs are covered by brown-nose colored pants. His brown hair is exposed and he has bits of stubble on his chin. He wields a halberd.

Master then summons a sword for himself. A green fireball flickers for a second in his hand before it elongates and materializes into a shortsword made of bone. All this happens in a matter of seconds before the blond intruder even crosses half the distance between him and his foe. The appearance of two new fighters comes as a surprise to the bayonet wielder, and he abruptly jumps back to his starting point.

"Too afraid to fight me by yourself, are you?" taunts the glasses wearer. "Doesn't matter, the more minions you summon, the more heathens I get to cull!"

Apparently he only jumped back to rethink his strategy, because the green eyed maniac once again charges at trio. The halberd wielder steps forward and stabs at him, but he spins around that gracefully and rushes past the chainmail covered fighter without even touching him. Now the bearded man blocks his path, which succeeds in stopping the reckless rush of the blond. The two of them stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. While the priest's attention is on the man in front of him, he does not notice the brunet sneaking up on him. As the one behind stabs at him, the one in front smashes both axes at the intruder's skull. The cleric is agile, however. As soon as he sees the golden hair warrior raise his axes, he runs in close and grabs his shoulders. He then hops up and plants his feet where his hands were and pushes off the helmet wearer as if a springboard, propelling himself forward while pushing the man below him into the spiked point of the halberd, eliminating one of his three opponents.

The bayonet wielder transitions from flying through the air to running at my master by rolling smoothly from the former to the latter. He never got to his intended target however. The hauberk clad warrior teleports into his path in a flare of green fire, weapon held horizontally to impede the blond's progress.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY," snarls the priest as he starts hacking away at the obstacle. The brown haired warrior dexterously blocks the slashes, though the ferocity of the attacks steadily drives him back. Finally my master joins the fight. He leaps at the holy man, blade seeking to gouge out his heart. With two assailants to deal with at once, the dual wielder's steady advance is halted. Even in a one verse two situation, the purifier holds his own, enchanted blades moving almost faster than the eye can track.

The fight reaches a stalemate. Neither side can gain an advantage over the other. The mage and his summoned fighter are trying all their hardest to crack their target's defense, and it is all the bespectacled fighter can do to hold them off. They stay like this for half a minute, and the fight quickly becomes a test of strength to see who tires first and makes a mistake.

Finally the cleric jumps back and unleashes a barrage of holy blades upon his enemies, forcing them to block and dodge as he digs into the pockets of his coat and drags out his behemoth blade once more, this time to throw at the necromancer. The blade flies through the air, horizontally flat and spinning. The summoned servant steps in front of it to deflect the projectile, but he clearly underestimated the power of the blade, or he overestimated his own strength, or both. Either way, the spinning sword bisects his halberd and his torso. Blood from the impact shoots toward master, but the torrent of sanguine liquid parts to either side of the mage, leaving him dry. The black haired sorcerer, seeing the demise of his servant does not make the same mistake. He ducks under the sword and gathers his energy to summon more dark servants. His opponent, however, does not give him the chance. The blond rushes at him faster than he can react, and grabs Shang Lao by the back of his head. He then he proceeds to mash the mage's face into the wall whilst keeping a holy blade at the back of his captive's neck.

"As if I'd let you summon more of your dogs to do your bidding," growls the priest. "I was assigned to take you out, not play with your underlings, though that has been interesting." With that, he cut off the mage's hands, causing him to cry out in pain.

"That's right. Scream. Cry. Beg for mercy. I'm glad that it is I who have received this opportunity, the opportunity to show you the power of God. I will take pleasure in purifying you, heathen. You know how souls must endure several millennia of purification in purgatory before being sent to heaven? Well, I'm here to do that all for you in the span of however long I decide! And after we're done, you'll be able to see God's holy face, and he can personally send you to hell that much faster! But, before we move onto the show for tonight, I'll give you a treat! I'll let you know the name of the one who bested you. My. Name. Is. Alexander. ANDERSON!" The blond plunges a silver blade into Shang Lao's back every time he says a word for the last five words, each blade deliberately avoiding any vital organs.

Shang Lao is tougher than I gave him credit for. He never lets out more than a soft grunt to signify his pain, which clearly displeases the green eyed man.

"I want to hear you scream in pain," growls Anderson as he makes a light cut on the back of his captive's left deltoid. "You will cry out in agony and curse the day you were born!"

"Is this all you're going to do?" asks master as if bored beyond disbelief. "Torture me slowly to death while spouting nonsense about your god? Might as well kill me now.

"You and all the other mages have caused a lot of suffering for people. Even after an eternity in purgatory, I expect you will still be condemned to the fire reserved for the devil and his dark cohorts, where you will burn for all eternity. Therefore, you should get used to this sort of pain. After all, it only gets worse from here on out."

The sorcerer gives no answer, but his body goes limp. His captor notices this and frowns.

"That trick won't work on me, fool," scolds the purifier as he slashes at the mage, drawing a long bloody line from his left shoulder blade to his right hip. "Your little silent act won't save you. Eventually you'll tire from this duress and beg for mercy. It's only a matter of time, and I can do this all day."

I do not catch the rest of the torture because, all of a sudden, a green film of light surrounds me, and the strength of several thousand souls fills me. The coldness that seemed to grip me like a vise disappears, and is replaced by the raging fires of a fighting spirit (or in this case, many fighting spirits). My strength returns to me and a pull both sacred blades out of me, my eviscerated tissues healing immediately. I pull myself to my full height and growl at the priest who has his back hunched, focusing on his work.

"We'Re NOt doNE yEt."

Upon hearing my (admittedly gruesome) voice, the blond straightens up and fixes his glasses. Though I cannot see his face, I can imagine it, with the same maniacal grin filling up half of his face while his glasses, opaque due to the reflected light, take up the other half.

"Oh? The beast has been filled full of holes and left by the wayside to die, and yet still comes back to the aid of its master?" remarks the bayonet wielder as he turns around. For a brief moment, I get a glimpse of his emerald eyes, and it is as I imagined. Filled with insanity. "Obviously the lesson I've taught it has not stuck in its mind. Come, let me teach you about the _wrath _and _power _of God, you _detestable being of darkness!_"

Facing me now, the holy man stows away his dual silver swords and let slip three smaller variants of the bayonets he normally uses from his sleeves into each hand, holding them in the space between his fingers like claws. He rests his right arm by his side, but raises his left arm so that the blades block out his left eye (though that is already impossible to see due to the reflected light), leaving his right eye exposed and seeable.

"If anyone does not love the Lord, Jesus Christ, let him be accursed. Oh Lord, come. AMEN," recites the cleric as he saunters his way towards me. Just because he beat me the first time does not give him the right to be so confident and look down on me. I will show him how bad of an idea it is too have underestimated me!

I spring at him, faster than he anticipated, and probably faster than he can react, and slug him in the face with all my might with my claws sheathed. I did not want that blow to be lethal, but to make sure that he is fighting me with all his might. After all, it's only fun if they fight with all their heart. And once they lose heart figuratively, I make sure they lose it literally too!

My punch launches Anderson back, but he tucks in his legs and flip backwards, landing quite gracefully. Without wasting anytime, he dashes at me, arms outstretched, seeking to plunge the sacred swords they grip into my being to end my life. I roll out of the way and jab my claws at him. He deflects it with one arm and lunges at me with the other, blades aiming for the area from my skull to throat. However, I am faster than he is. I snap my head back and lean backwards to avoid being punctured and punch the cleric in the chin, throwing him back. I shift my weight forward now, pulling my body towards him so I can swipe at his exposed neck and belly, but my foe uses the momentum from the blow to backpedal away from my slashes. Before he can make a move, I spit hellfire at him, an ability I did not even know I possessed. My projectile starts as a small ball of dark green flame, but quickly spreads out in a cone and moves too quickly for my enemy to dodge. Thus, he tries to block it by spinning his bayonets, but the unholy fire quickly melts the enchanted metal.

"Fool," I admonish as I make my way towards him, my claws held perpendicular to each other to make an '_x' _in front of me. "My fiery breath is so hellish, not even your blessed blades can resist it. Even a slight touch of my spit and your flesh will be melted from your bone!"

The blond snarls in annoyance and unleash more of the smaller blades to replace his destroyed ones, then stabs his left arm at me. I grab hold of his arm and spin in a half-circle, releasing him at the end and sending him flying facefirst into a bookshelf. The impact dislodges quite a few books and breaks the shelf his face made direct contact with. One admirable attribute of the green eyed fighter is his tenacity. This man had probably been fighting the entire night to get through the tower, defeated me, then my master and several of his summoned cronies, and is now taking a beating from a rejuvenated me. Blood drips from numerous wounds, most noticeably out of his nose, an injury he must've sustained from being flung into a bookshelf. The mere fact that he is still able to get back onto his feet makes me respect him, even if just a bit.

The holy man dashes at me as I dash at him, his bayonets drawn back to lacerate my throat just as my claws are drawn back to rip out his heart. As we near each other, we lunge forward at each other with our respective weapons outstretched to kill the other.

_Squelch!_ The sound of something big and sharp plunging into flesh is heard. My face and the face of my opponent are only a few inches apart, the grins on our faces matching and he is about to say something when his face contorts in pain. He coughs painfully, and a small squirt of blood flies out of his mouth and onto my face. I look down to see my claws sticking out of his heart and straight out the back, with a few inches to spare sticking out of the front. I kick him in the stomach, knocking him onto his back.

"How is this possible," Anderson manages to choke out, blood trickling out of his mouth in three steady streams. "You were nowhere near as strong when I defeated you, and I should not have tired enough from the fight with the sorcerer for you to be able to beat me. So how is it possible - wait. Could it be? Did that snake Shang Lao transfer his spirit to you? That could explain how you've gained the power of a greater demon."

"YoU nEEd NOt wORrY AbOUt tHaT AnYmoRE," I tell him as I pick him up by his collar. "YoUr SouL IS mInE!"

I am about to tear out his heart and consume it when the priest knees me in the gut. It catches me off-guard and I double over, releasing my captive. He should not have even lived long enough to wonder how I managed to beat him, and yet, here he is, still fighting me even after I've eviscerated his heart. How is he still alive?

"My soul and my body are both protected by the church and by God," states the holy man. "God will have my soul, not you; and the church will bury my body. It will not be consumed by a beast."

Reaching behind him, he draws out a thick tome (from where, I will never know. His coat and sleeves, doesn't show any sign of pockets or hilts keeping the blades, and yet he always pulls out more. I've observed this during his fights, where his coat waves madly in the wind or in fast movements, showing clear sign of its inner sides. Whether he can summon an endless number of bayonets or they are concealed with some sort of holy power, remains unknown) and flips through its pages rapidly. Golden pages materialize out of nowhere and surround his battered frame, swirling around him as if he were the eye of a vortex. The winds generated by the fluttering paper are so strong that I have to look away.

"Know this, sorcerer," boomed the priest, his voice coming from the center of the windstorm. "I know you can hear me! Father Alexander Anderson does not fail missions. This will merely be labeled as 'ongoing'. Mark my words, I'll be back. And when next we meet, I will have your head!" When the winds die down and I am able to look in that direction again, my quarry is gone.

I wait for five full minutes before I am sure that the intruder is gone. The crazed blond's theory that Shang Lao transferred his soul into me is highly likely. I am assailed by strange images that are foreign to me, and I am unable to think. I will not be able come up with a smart course of action in this situation. Thus, I take some time to sift through the vast amount of new knowledge that has presented itself unto me.

A few days passes before I am done, and I spend another few hours thinking about all the new things I've learned. Some things are beneficial, like how to rip souls out of a victim without having to eat him, or how to make homunculi. Other things are less beneficial, but still very interesting, like how to gut a fish, how to craft boots and how to handle needle and thread. And then there are things I'd rather not know, like how many women a man can bed in a single night….

"Silence fills the empty grave, now that I am done," I mused to no one in particular. "But my mind is not at rest, for questions linger on. I will seek, and the world will answer."

Questions still buzz around in my head about the past, everything I've known, and the future, what will I do. The most obvious appealing option right now would be to terrorize some humans in the Earthrealm. One of the most useful things I've learned is how to travel between realms via portals. Creating these portals takes a large amount of energy, and I'm reluctant to expend so much of my strength, even though I just absorbed a ton of it. Still, I'd rather not stay in the Outworld. Based on what I've seen of it, there is not much life around, and what little of it there are will put up a tough fight to survive. I scan through all the information I have on Earthrealm, and see that, though the inhabitants are no pushovers, they are many times easier to subdue than their Outworld counterparts.

Drawing upon my vast stores of power, I rip open a hole between the realms, a white portal with a glowing blue aura appearing out of nowhere.

Before I leave, I take one last look at the place I've resided within for the past two years, the abode of the man that I've learned to respect and the only person I've ever submitted to and called 'master'. I've never given much thought about why I respect him so much. He rarely shows his face to me, and talks to me even less. I suppose it's because of all the people that seek to kill him. Shang Lao maintains control over me, and I crush his foes, so that makes him stronger than his foes. Also, I can see the hatred of his enemies for him in their memories, every single one. He has caused so much bloodshed and terror that his name is known in several realms. He had everything I wanted: knowledge, power, and a feared reputation.

Finally, I transform from my demonic form into a human. It would not do to walk around in my demon body on earth, for that would draw too much unwanted attention. Once I'm confident that I can raze the world without fear of being taken down, I will unleash my true unholy wrath upon them, but I will proceed safely for now. My body shrinks in height and my muscles diminish in size. My tail and horns disappear, as do all the spikes sticking out of my joints and my claws shorten until they merely cover the tip of my fingers. Shoulder-length black hair sprouts out of my head more hair appears in…several other areas. A new organ grows on my crotch and my skin changes from a vermillion red to a light tan brown. Next, I conjure clothing for myself. I summon a blue robe that runs just past my hip with yellow accents running down the center of the robe. A sash wraps around my waist and cuffs are brown-yellow. Underneath that I wear a brown one piece that covers me from neck to feet.

I am ready. I step into the portal, forging onwards towards my destiny. All around me the world turns white, and everything glows with a brightness that swallows me whole.

* * *

**Ahhh, poop. I really got overly ambitious on this one. My apologies, people. I know I said this will be a oneshot, but I really can't finish this story the way I want it to in the amount of time I've allotted for myself. This is definitely _not _the end. I will probably have to make this a two or threeshot, depending on how much I cut out.**

**Still, it's funny cuz this chapter alone is longer than three of MK:TE's chapters combined!**

**Anyways, this story explains the backstory of Shang Tsung. I hope to cover everything from the very start of his life as an imp to his becoming human, and explore some of his relations with other MK characters, like Kenshi, Mileena, Shao Kahn and a whole bunch of others. I really want to develop Shang's character from a demon focused only on consuming and growing to a human struggling with human problems, and finally into the cold, heartless sorcerer he is depicted as in the games.  
**


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